The Weight
by AccordingToGinger
Summary: One shot. Students return after the war to complete their 7th year at Hogwarts. Headmistress McGonagall asks Draco Malfoy to teach Harry occlumency as Dumbledore had always wanted, to fulfill his wishes. The two enemies begin to form an understanding of the others pains during the war. NOT A SLASH.


Not a slash, not even really a friendship, more of an understanding of what the other one went through.

Slight AU. I'm changing some of the details around after the war to fit my personal opinion. Warnings for violence, sometimes graphic.

Draco P.O.V

The summer was a drag. After the war and the court trials and hearings that followed, I'd locked myself in my room, gotten into bed, and waited for something to happen. Mother knocked on my door several times a day. For the first few weeks she continued to heal my superficial wounds, and she tried lessen the mental trauma left behind by the dark lord's torture when I had failed my assignment. I woke most nights with the breath of my nightmares still in my mouth. At one point I had stopped sleeping all together. I grew scrawny from ignoring the food she brought me, and progressively grew weaker instead of stronger as she had preferred.

On a particularly brisk morning mother stormed into the room, drawing open the curtains and awakening me from a deep slumber with a groan.

"I can't do this anymore Draco," her tone was desperate.

I stared at her with an empty gaze.

"You don't eat, you don't get out of bed, you crawl deeper into depression every day. Your father would not tolerate it. He would not be as soft on you as I have been."

I roll my eyes, turn over and burrow my head back into my pillows. "It's a good thing he's in Azkaban then."

Mother grew still and her eyes went cold. "Hogwarts is resuming term next week and you will be attending."

"It's not like they'd let me back in anyway" I mumbled.

"I've spoken with Minerva McGonagall personally and they've held a spot for you. All students wishing to complete their education may attend."

I sat up hurriedly, looking straight at her.

"At 1:00 on September 1st you better be on that train. Your letter is downstairs, we'll go for your books now. Get dressed."

I sat there in awe, thinking about how different this school year was going to be. Crabbe was dead, Nott and Goyle had both been shipped off to Azkaban along with their fathers. Blaise would probably be attending, though I'd held little contact with him since the war. I knew Pansy would be going back, she sent several letters a week for which I'd had few words in return. She must have been bored out of her mind. Nonetheless, I'd be glad to see my friends at the start of term, I'd been getting lonely with nothing but the spider that spun a web above my bed for company.

Harry P.O.V.

Wounds hardly healed with time. Hermione and I had both been staying at the burrow the summer after the war. The Dursleys had moved cross country, or so I'd been told, and there was little hope to restore the memories of the Grangers, though Hermione checked in on them quite often. Life after the chosen one was surprisingly ordinary. After testifying in court to put known death eaters away, we waited impatiently for Hogwarts to start again.

"I heard from my dad that all the Slytherins that weren't arrested are allowed back this term." Ron said at breakfast one day, uncharacteristically stabbing at his eggs instead of gulping them down.

"Does that mean that people like Malfoy and Goyle will be coming back?" Asked Hermione, eyebrows knit together in concern.

I shook my head, "as far as I know, Goyle was sent to Azkaban after our testimony. As for Malfoy, I'm not sure. His mother saving me from Voldemort got him pardoned. Slimy git."

"He didn't turn you over to Bellatrix at the manor, that's got to count for something." Hermione pointed out.

"Out of fear and guilt, not out of the goodness of his heart." Ron scoffed.

Hermione rolled her eyes, "Better than nothing."

"Why are you defending him? He called you a mudblood. He would've killed you if he'd gotten the chance." Ron asked, eyes wide.

"I'm not!" She cried, "And I'm not forgiving what he's done, what any of them have done, but I can't bare all of this hatred anymore. Too many good people died because of it."

We were silent for some time.

"Hey at least Snape isn't around to torture us anymore." As soon as Ron said it, he regretted it.

Silence. Bitter silence.

Draco P.O.V.

"You want me to what?"

It was three weeks into term. It was the first week I'd left the dungeons and started attending classes. I sunk right back into the monotony of things easily. I was doing well in my subjects and I read in my spare time. Pansy, Blaise and I stuck to each other like glue, we clung to the familiarity of one another. Everything had been going rather smoothly until the headmistress called me to her office.

"It was Dumbledore's request that Potter learn occlumency. Snape was rather unsuccessful, but I've heard you're rather talented Mr. Malfoy, I want you to help him learn it."

"Perhaps you've noticed, but the Dark Lord is dead. There's not need to teach Potter."

McGonagall scowled. "I'm quite aware that _Voldemort_ is dead, Mr. Malfoy. I was there."

I shut my mouth obediently, seeing the fire in her eyes.

"I want to honor both the late headmasters' memories. Besides, if Potter is going to be an auror then it would behoove him to learn the skills required. Gryffindor and Slytherin relations have declined further than I've ever seen them. If we are to see unity in this school then our older students must lead by example." Her eyes glittered, daring me to speak back. "I just want you to try Mr. Malfoy. I know you're not a professor, but just try teaching him the way you learned."

I snorted, "With a Cruciatus Curse every time I see something in his head that I don't like? Do you think my aunt held my hand when she taught me?"

McGonagall uncrossed her arms, awkwardly silent for several moments, unsure of what to say. "When you renounced the death eater ways after the war you swore an oath to uphold the unity of the wizarding community Mr. Malfoy. If you refuse me, you're breaking the oath."

I remained quiet, contemplating the difficulty of the task ahead.

Harry P.O.V

"You want me to what?!"

Professor McGonagall rubbed her temples. "Potter please, I had a hard enough time with Malfoy, and I thought at least you I could count on."

"Please professor, this is Malfoy we're talking about. He tried to kill Dumbledore! He's ignorant and cruel. Please, anyone else."

"No, Mr. Potter," She scowled, "That is my final decision on the matter. Much like you were forced to fight against the dark lord, Draco was forced to fight for him."

I let my jaw fall in disbelief, "Professor with all due respect, with or without this scar I would've chosen the same side to fight on."

"Perhaps. You must understand Potter that Mr. Malfoy, much like many of the children of death eaters, was raised from birth to serve Voldemort. They grew up having the superiority of their blood instilled in them. I like to think that most of them would've turned out rather decent had they not been forced into servitude. I pity the boy. He was trained in beliefs that may have not been his if he was given the choice."

I grunted in frustration, "You expect me to stand there and let him point a wand at me willingly?"

"You let Professor Snape do it."

"That's different!" I yelled in frustration. "Dumbledore trusted Snape."

"Is it not then enough that I trust Mr. Malfoy?"

I stood there in shock, not daring to speak. It would be misleading if I were to tell the professor that I trusted her less than Dumbledore. After all she'd done for me, I couldn't bear to disappoint her.

….

"She's making you do what?!" Ron and Hermione chorused after I'd returned to the common room and retold the story.

"Tomorrow during free period," I muttered, discouraged.

"She can't seriously make you do that." Ron stated.

"What choice do I have, Ron? She kept talking about my duty as a future auror and how I should trust her as much as Dumbledore.

"I can't believe he agreed to it as well" Hermione echoed, seemingly far away.

"Me neither." I said, staring at the ground.

Draco's P.O.V.

It was nearly quarter past nine. That prat was late. I began pacing around the small classroom that McGonagall had given me. That's the last time I do any favors for the golden trio. Who did she think I was? A charity. Just as I was about to leave the room, Potter burst in, sweat pouring down his face.

"Er sorry, Ron got his hand stuck in . . . something." He stated awkwardly.

"Bloody brilliant," I muttered under my breath.

He dropped his things on a nearby desk and turned to face me. "Did McGonagall guilt you into this as well."

I looked at him curiously for a moment, baffled by his attempt at small talk. "Listen Potter, I'm not here to be your friend. I'd appreciate it if we can get on with it so I can at least make it in time for lunch."

"Fine by me," he scowled. "Teach away, Malfoy."

I took my wand out of my pocket. "Occlumency is all about control. It's forcing yourself to compartmentalize everything you feel and everything you've seen. To empty yourself of everything and defend yourself against a threat."

"Read that out of a textbook, did you?" He scoffed.

"Just prepare yourself, Potter" I muttered angrily and brought my wand up to point between his eyes. He seemed unsure if he should defend himself, flashes of our sixth year bathroom duel probably still flashing through his mind. "Legilimens!"

I was engulfed by past memories. The first was in some type of muggle home, a young Potter was sitting in a dark room, sharing a meal of soggy vegetables with his owl. He seemed to be locked in. Did these muggles starve him normally? The second memory was of a slightly older Potter, watching a man in tatty prison robes fly off on that bloody chicken that injured my arm third year. So that was why the damn beast never got beheaded. The third memory must've been more recent, as Potter cried over the bloodied body of a house elf that looked hauntingly familiar.

I withdrew myself from his mind. "That was pitiful, Potter. I've questioned house elves that showed more restraint than you."

He took a moment to collect himself, panting harshly, and sweat dripping from his forehead.

"Again." I uttered raising my wand, "Legilimens."

I was standing in the dark forest, near a lake. Potter was kneeling at the edge with the same prisoner I'd seen before. Getting a better look at him I realized it was my uncle, Sirius Black. We weren't allowed to speak of him in my house. Bellatrix called him a blood traitor. Suddenly, things went dark. It felt as though all the happiness had gone from the world. I saw a swarm of dementors approaching and took a nervous step back, forgetting that I wasn't part of this world. I saw Potter cast a Patronus Charm before I moved to the next memory. Potter was younger again, standing in front of a mirror, looking at a reflection of himself with two people standing behind him, looking at him lovingly. I was sure they must have been his parents. Suddenly, I was thrown forcefully from Potter's mind.

I emerged back into the land of the living, feeling as if the breath had been knocked out of me.

"That was private," Potter said through gritted teeth, trying to catch his breath.

"That what impressive Potter," I managed.

He gave me a strange look.

I straightened myself, "again."

"No! Let me rest for a minute Malfoy."

"You won't learn by taking breaks, Potter. I certainly was never allowed to." I raised my wand. "Legilimens."

In a split second Potter had his wand up at eye level, casting some defensive spell that reflected my spell back on to me. I panicked, feeling Potter enter my mind. I attempted to protect myself with occlumency, but seeing as I'd neglected my health throughout the summer, my mind was weaker than I had thought.

Memories came flooding back to me. Father reprimanding me after first year for not making friends with Harry Potter. And again after third year for my marks coming in second to those of a mudblood. Next was the end of fifth year, humiliated when he was put in Azkaban. My memories took a darker turn then. Sixth year: tears streaming down my face as Bellatrix cursed me after failing to learn occlumency, kneeling at the dark lords feet with blood filling my mouth as I tried not to scream when I received my mark, enduring his torture the night that I'd failed to kill Dumbledore as my family watched in horror. Seventh year was next. In one memory, I sat at a long table with other death eaters in the presence of the dark lord, cowering in my chair, drawing myself closer to make myself smaller. The next memory was rather brutal, I lay on the floor of my father's study, hands protecting my head as I drew myself into fetal position and my father brought his cane down on my body mercilessly, ranting and screaming. My mother came to my aid, dragging him from the room and crouching down to run her hands through my hair. 'He's drunk, Draco' she had told me 'He's afraid. He means nothing by it. He doesn't mean to hurt you.' The next memory involved my watching Bellatrix torture Hermione Granger. I had closed my eyes and looked away, not daring to watch, but not daring to move out of line to help her.

With a sigh of relief I felt Potter break the spell, pulling us both back to reality.

We stared at one another. Silence engulfing the room, eyes not blinking.

I let out a breath, "those muggles you lived with. They locked you up and starved you."

He said nothing.

I laughed harshly, "I always thought you were spoiled, with all that money your parents left you."

"I thought the same of you," he admitted.

"I was," I said, "Until he returned."

He stared at me, awkwardly.

"I'm glad you killed him." I finally said, pulling together the best spoken gratitude that I could think of.

That surprised him I think, as he gazed off. We sat together for a while, consumed by all that we'd just witnessed. A darkness felt as if it had been lifted.

"I have the same free period tomorrow." He said.

"Me too."

And with that he was gone. I must've sat there for hours because the next time the door opened, Pansy poked her head through.

"I found him, Blaise!" She yelled back into the hallway.

I looked up to meet her gaze.

"Draco, please come and have some lunch. You promised."

"Did I?"

She pouted, "Yes this morning when you refused to eat breakfast. I only let you get up because you promised you'd eat lunch."

"Fine I'm coming," I said, following her to the great hall. I sat down at the Slytherin table as Pansy shoveled a little bit of everything onto my plate.

I picked up my fork just as Blaise took a seat on the opposite side of me. He clapped me on the shoulder and uttered some form of greeting.

"Quiet Blaise," Pansy hissed, "I was finally getting him to eat something."

I stirred my fork through my potatoes. "Pansy?"

"Yes, Draco?"

"Do you suppose we were wrong?"

"Wrong about what, Draco?"

I didn't answer, but stared off at the Gryffindor table watching Potter converse with Granger and Weasley in secret, most likely about what had happened not hours before. Prat. He was probably telling them lies about how he'd mastered it already. I brought the fork to my mouth and closed my eyes, feeling a weight lifted off me.


End file.
